"No.
Do not be afraid.
Get in."
"How?"
"Just slip in.
There is much room.
Do you want me to help you?"
"No," she said and then she was in the robe and he was holding her tight to him and trying to kiss her lips and she was pressing her face against the pillow of clothing but holding her arms close around his neck.
Then he felt her arms relax and she was shivering again as he held her.
"No," he said and laughed.
"Do not be afraid.
That is the pistol."
He lifted it and slipped it behind him.
"I am ashamed," she said, her face away from him.
"No. You must not be.
Here.
Now."
"No, I must not.
I am ashamed and frightened."
"No.
My rabbit.
Please."
"I must not.
If thou dost not love me."
"I love thee."
"I love thee.
Oh, I love thee.
Put thy hand on my head," she said away from him, her face still in the pillow.
He put his hand on her head and stroked it and then suddenly her face was away from the pillow and she was in his arms, pressed close against him, and her face was against his and she was crying.
He held her still and close, feeling the long length of the young body, and he stroked her head and kissed the wet saltiness of her eyes, and as she cried he could feel the rounded, firm-pointed breasts touching through the shirt she wore.
"I cannot kiss," she said.
"I do not know how."
"There is no need to kiss."
"Yes.
I must kiss.
I must do everything."
"There is no need to do anything.
We are all right.
But thou hast many clothes."
"What should I do?"
"I will help you."
"Is that better?"
"Yes.
Much.
It is not better to thee?"
"Yes.
Much better.
And I can go with thee as Pilar said?"
"Yes."
"But not to a home.